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by unintentionallyangsty



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: (but what else is new), Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anxiety, Bittersweet Ending, But mostly angst, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Post OTGW, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 12:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8577973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unintentionallyangsty/pseuds/unintentionallyangsty
Summary: Wirt makes a decision that drastically changes both his and Greg's 'lives' as they know them.Now, he must deal with he aftermath of that decision.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i can't believe i'm here again.
> 
> That being said, this idea stemmed from a headcanon in which Wirt makes the decision to let Greg pass on and go back home, meanwhile remaining within the Unknown himself.
> 
> This is the aftermath.

Wirt awoke to a dull grey light, his head feeling as if it had been stuffed full of cotton and his limbs stiff and numb with cold. 

He shifted blearily, noting the icily packed snow crunching underneath his movements as he did so. 

He took a moment to adjust to the various aches and pains making themselves known before he opened his eyes slowly and took in his surroundings, eyeing the foreboding, bare tree tops spread out above him distantly. 

“-irt? Wirt? Come on; come back!” 

Wirt jolted, his hand flying to his chest in an involuntary action before he could fully process the urge. 

He shifted his gaze slightly until he met a pair of startling blue eyes, above which the freckle-dotted forehead was creased in a mixture of concern and curiosity. 

“Beatrice!” He cried, unsure where the certainty of identity was coming from, but simultaneously completely sure footed in his guess. 

He sat up swiftly, hand still clenched tightly in the fabric of his cape as he eyed his new companion warily. 

True to the form he was accustomed to her being in, Beatrice was clad in a pale blue dress that reflected off of her eyes that were now clouded in worry, her bottom lip currently being gnawed between her teeth. 

“Beatrice,” He repeated, for lack of anything better to say, “I-You-You’re-” 

“I’m--Well, human.” She replied, her voice so instantly recognizable and familiar that Wirt felt almost disconcertingly at peace at the sound of it. 

For a moment, she looked completely happy; her cheeks flushing and her mouth spreading into a wide and _beautiful_ grin that lasted only a couple seconds before it tapered off into something more serious. 

“Wirt, you should probably-- probably come home with me.” She offered a moment later, her face pulling into something of an apologetic grimace that set Wirt on edge again almost immediately. 

“Wha-What?” He replied, shaking his head blearily and peering around their soft, misty surroundings before turning back in confusion, “No, no. Beatrice, I have to go home, remember?”

It was his turn to grimace apologetically, hoping Beatrice’s brief lapse in memory wouldn’t forever scar her memory of the pair of them. 

Speaking of…

“Speaking of,” He murmured, casting his gaze around again, with more intention this time, “Where’s Greg?”

His pulse picked up, and he began turning his head around frantically, eyeing the seemingly empty woods spreading out endlessly around them with increasing desperation. 

“Beatrice,” He whispered, not making the effort to turn his gaze back to the girl sitting crouched before him, “Where-Where’s Greg?” 

He finally turned back to meet Beatrice’s gaze, which was confused and a little--

A little sad. 

Wirt felt his heart plummet into his stomach sickeningly at the sight. 

“Where’s… Greg-” He whispered, hitching in a wheezing breath past the words, though he was a little more than certain that he didn’t want to hear the answer to his inquiry. 

As if to confirm the suspicion, Beatrice winced a little before replying, “Wirt, Greg-- Greg had to- had to go home.” 

Wirt furrowed his brow, his mind churning through the information before rejecting it almost instantly. 

No. He was supposed- supposed to-

“N-No.” He murmured, “I’m supposed to go home with him, remember Beatrice?” 

Beatrice studied him for a long moment, evidently turning the reply over in her mind before replying, slowly, “No-o. Wirt. Greg went home.”

Though Wirt felt his heart continue to sink, he cast his gaze around again, halfway expecting a small figure to pop out from behind one of the menacing trees and cry out, _“Ha! We got you! Let’s go home together, brother o’ mine!”_

“No,” He denied again, furrowing his brow and feeling the slightest bit of anger begin to seep in past the edges of the numbness that had been overtaking his senses since he’d awoken, “No, Beatrice. Greg needs _my_ help to get back. He’s-He’ll never make it on his own. He’s too little and-and-” 

For the first time since the conversation (argument) had begun, Beatrice’s facial expression shifted, and she smiled a little sadly before replying, “He did have your help, Wirt. You helped him go back.” 

Wirt blinked, and he sat in confused silence before the words completely sunk in, and he felt his hands begin to shake with the reality of the situation. 

“Don’t you remember?” Beatrice was prodding, seemingly to fill the heavy silence that had suddenly settled over the both of them, “Greg needed help getting back home and you-you wanted him to go back, Wirt. You wanted him safe and happy, but only he could go and-- You were a real hero, Wirt. I’m sure-” 

“Stop.” Wirt interrupted ( _begged_ ) desperately, burying one hand in his hair and feeling his throat begin to close up in panic at the explanation, “Beatrice, please, just-” 

Beatrice, as luck would have it, seemed to understand his need for silence and pursed her lips thoughtfully, sitting back on her heels and studying his shaking form warily; as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Wirt felt eerily the same about the whole situation. 

“So he’s-” He heaved in a breath past the thickness lacing his words, “Greg, he’s-he’s gone?”

Beatrice looked away and nodded slowly before returning his gaze and replying, evenly, “Yes. He’s gone, Wirt. He went back home.” 

There was another long, heavy silence before Wirt curled instinctively forward, digging his hands into the material of his cape tightly as he attempted to gain some control over his labored breathing.

It was as if the words triggered some primal instinct within himself, and Wirt sucked in another harsh breath before a miserable, muted wail escaped his throat before he’d even had a chance to recognize the sound for what it was. 

“Oh,” Beatrice murmured, making an aborted movement like she wanted to move forward, before she seemed to think better of the action and leered back again, clenching her own hands into the fabric of her dress that was pooled delicately around her knees, “Oh, _Wirt_.”

Wirt sucked in another breath, feeling a small amount of fury begin to bubble up when the inhale caught infuriatingly on the sap that had begun to build within his lungs. 

“You-” He wheezed, already regretting the words that were about to leave his mouth, but determined enough to attempt to burn off the increasingly warming anger boiling just underneath his skin, “You let him leave.”

Beatrice paused, as if somewhat shocked at the accusation, before reeling back slightly, “Wirt, _what_ -?” 

“ _You let him leave_!” Wirt repeated, letting his voice rise to a full on shout that felt like it had been pent up for too long. 

He rose slowly from his previously bent position, ignoring his own wheezing breaths, and met Beatrice’s shocked ( _hurt_ ) gaze head on; trying to hide the fact that he could feel his entire body trembling. 

“I-” Beatrice sputtered, her cheeks growing red with indignation, and Wirt could easily identify the temper boiling behind her words, “Wirt, I-You _wanted_ him to leave. You helped him!”

Wirt flashed his teeth in what could only be described as a snarl. 

“I-I didn’t want _this_!” He snapped, though he could feel the weakness behind the words as soon as they were out, “I didn’t want to be st-stuck here!” He heaved another gasping breath and ignored the cold nausea roiling his gut at the thought, “With _you_. Without-Without Greg and-and I-”

“You know what, fine!” Beatrice snapped, standing suddenly and glaring down at him with ill disguised fury, her blue eyes flashing, “I tried to help you Wirt, I really did!” She inhaled sharply, and Wirt tried to ignore the guilt he felt pricking at his conscience at the tears that begin to rim her eyes. 

“I thought that maybe you’d be-that we’d-!” She broke off, clenching her small, pale fists in fury before crying, “Nevermind! Stay here in the snow if you want, you absolute-- freak! See if I care!”

Beatrice glared down at him balefully for another long second, almost as if she were expecting him to reply or reach out to stop her, before she turned on her heel and stormed off, the snow crunching decidedly beneath her trekking feet. 

Wirt forced himself to remain upright and watch her retreat, his shoulders trembling violently and his chin quivering despite his best efforts. 

As soon as Beatrice’s retreating form (seemingly knowing exactly where she was going) disappeared into the darkness of the tree-line, however, Wirt felt his resolve crumble and he allowed himself another small, miserable sob before he curled inward on himself again. 

He leaned forward and clenched fistfuls of snow in each hand, reveling in the way the sharp sensation seemed to cut through the clinging numbness.

For a long, desperate moment, he wished for Greg’s small, warm hand to take his again; for his younger brother’s small voice to pipe up with a misplaced (if not well-intended) encouragement. 

The sensation of longing was almost overwhelming, and it hit Wirt like a hard sock to the gut.

For a moment all he could do was lie in the rapidly darkening twilight, gasping for air, his panting breaths leaving his lips on small, wispy clouds. 

The wind whistled around his trembling figure, and Wirt began to moan weakly. 

He clenched his eyes shut against the pale and bleak surroundings, ignoring the hot, salty tears that tracked down his cheeks at the action and trying to tamper down on the sick roiling of his stomach. 

“ _Greg_.” He whispered weakly, reverently like his plea might be answered like a prayer, “Greg, Greg, Greg, _Greg-_ ”

“Wirt?”

Wirt paused, breathing sharply and unsteadily and steeling himself before turning his gaze upward. 

_Greg stood before him, his brow furrowed in confusion and-and-_

The wind whipped suddenly, knocking Wirt’s hat off in its ferocity and revealing Beatrice standing a short distance away, her gaze hesitant but determined. 

Wirt let out a sigh of frustration, admitting to himself that he was disappointed, but not entirely unsurprised. 

“Beatrice.” He murmured, letting his gaze slide downward to study where his hands were still clenched, trembling in the icily packed snow. 

“Wirt.” Beatrice repeated, “You-I-I’m sorry.” 

Wirt frowned, “What for?” 

While he wasn’t looking, he could tell that Beatrice was frowning too, “For everything, I guess.” She replied after a long silence. 

“I-Me too.” Wirt replied, biting his lip before raising his gaze tentatively, “Beatrice?” 

“Yeah, Wirt?” 

“I’m gonna-I miss him.” The dam broke, and Wirt’s declaration ended on another desperate, wracking sob. 

“Oh, Wirt.” Beatrice murmured again, this time not hesitating before striding forward through the snow and dropping to her knees beside Wirt’s trembling figure.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Beatrice offered, reaching forward and wrapping her arms around Wirt’s shoulders as best as she could, despite the awkward angle. 

Wirt lurched forward and reached out to clench the soft, silky fabric of the dress at Beatrice’s knees fiercely, his knuckles paling with the force of the action. 

“Bea- _Beatrice_.” He wailed, taking comfort in Beatrice’s soft breaths that ruffled the hair at the crown of his head, and simultaneously hating himself for his own weakness, “I-I want-”

“It’s okay, Wirt.” Beatrice interrupted, the frantic motions of her hands rubbing at this back belying the cool, soothing nature of her words, “It’s okay.” 

“I-” Wirt gasped, coughing and sobbing again before sputtering, “I want Greg. _Gre-eg_.”

“Wirt.” Beatrice murmured sternly, turning so that her face was angled downward, “He’s happy, Wirt. You saved him. You’re a hero.” 

Wirt inhaled shakily, holding the breath for a moment as he let the words sink in before releasing it on another soft sob. 

He didn’t answer. 

“You did it, Wirt.” Beatrice whispered, shifting slightly so that her cheek was pressed gently against his hair as her hands resumed their patting hesitantly, “You did it. He’s happy. Greg’s fine.” 

They sat like that for what seemed like hours, the wind whipping around their figures and leaving the both of them shivering a little miserably. 

At some point, soft, thick flakes of snow began to fall within the clearing, and Wirt studied their descent past the shuddering breaths still puffing out visibly before his gaze. 

“Wirt?” Beatrice croaked, the sound of her voice jarring in the thick, heavy silence. 

Wirt frowned, finding himself unable to speak but forcing himself to nod a reply.

“We should go home.” Beatrice murmured, sounding sure of herself despite the circumstances. 

Wirt bit his lip, feeling his shoulders begin to tense slightly again at the words. 

He studied the tree-line in the distance, the hairs on the back of his neck raising when he attempted to gaze further into the dark gloom. 

Wirt closed his eyes briefly, and was struck without warning by the image of Greg wrapped tightly in Edelwood branches, skin pale and eyes dark and sunken like Wirt had never seen them before.

His eyes shot open and he lay, breathing heavily and willing the images away before he groaned and attempted to sit up fully, resting his elbows on his own knees and craning his neck to meet Beatrice’s expectant gaze firmly. 

“Okay.” He replied, hesitantly, feeling his chest prick a little with warmth at the hopeful smile that began to form on Beatrice’s freckled face at the simple word, “I--Okay.”

Beatrice’s nose wrinkled, and her smile widened a little, her eyes flooding with what Wirt could only guess must be hope. 

For the first time in what felt like days, he felt a bit of that hope begin to blossom in his own chest. 

“Let’s go home, Wirt.”

**Author's Note:**

> well, this is finished. 
> 
> i'm exhAusted and not entirely sure this is actually?? any good?? but I am fond of it and wanted to share it so there's That. 
> 
> another call out post for [obscureenthusiast](http://obscureenthusiast.tumblr.com/) for being amazing and always willing to beta my fics that are only ever about cartoons. i just love her a lot. 
> 
> as always you can find me on my tumblr [here](http://suitablyhip.tumblr.com) or at my sideblog [here](http://mmindscape.tumblr.com) where this fic will be posted. 
> 
> i am alWAYS down to discuss cartoon headcanons on either. 
> 
> thanks so much for reading, pals!!


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